pretty when you cry
by beautlilies
Summary: High school student Bella Swan has spent her entire life in Forks, Washington with her parents Renee and Charlie. After a mysterious family move to the area, she meets Edward Cullen. After becoming entranced by him and his family, she soon finds out just how dangerous the world can be as she pursues a romance with her immortal soulmate while keeping her parents safe.
1. Preface

**PREFACE**

 **SOME WILL SAY THIS IS HEROIC.**

Dying in the place of someone I love. It is not how I imagined it in those brief moments where I truly considered what life would have been like if different decisions had been made. I was not one to be noble, nor was I one to be thrust into dangerous situations, but the last year has been about doing things I was not one to do.

The hunter stares at me pleasantly. He waits for me to move, to dart across the room in a feeble attempt to escape. But, as terrified as I was, I knew I could not escape. I did not _want_ to escape.

Smiling at my resignation, the hunter sauntered forward to kill me.


	2. Scandal

**1\. SCANDAL**

 **MY MOTHER SITS AT THE KITCHEN TABLE, WAITING.** She spares me a glance when she hears me step into the kitchen, tilting her head to where a batch of –-no doubt burnt - scrambled eggs wait for me. I didn't hear the smoke alarm this morning, whether from the consistent downpour of rain battering out city or because Dad finally removed the smoke detectors like I had suggested.

In the state of Washington, our town – Forks – is under a near constant array of angry clouds. The sky is always dark and ominous, a stark contrast from the lively persona my mother tries so hard to instill in me. It is here, in the rainiest town in the country, where my parents have decided to live out the rest of their lives. My mother finally resigned to live in this town with my father when I was only a few months old after she had spent those three or four months bouncing from house to house, hotel to hotel. They were married shortly there after.

I sit across from her, my scrambled eggs now cold. Mom sets her phone down and watches as I take a bite. She's been experimenting more in the kitchen after quitting her job at the elementary school. Dad was upset when she came home early, favorite dish in her hand as she gently tried to ease my father into the conversation. They fought for the next few hours, before she resigned herself to sleeping at Sue Clearwater's house, with a pointed "at least Sue supports me" on her way out. I suspect it's her way of making up for her comment, too.

"How is it?" she asks as I swallow.

I reach for my glass of water, and nod weakly. It was too salty, but not as burned as the last time she attempted to make eggs.

"Do you taste the cheese?"

I shake my head. She hums and picks up her phone and begins typing.

"You know," she starts, looking at me over her phone. "The new family that moved here recently –- the Cullen's, I think, I'd have to ask your father –- is starting school today."

The memory of last night's conversation unravels in my head once more. Mom and Dad have always encouraged me to step outside of my comfort zone and make more friends than the little group of people I have conditioned myself to like. Sure, I had Jacob Black on the reservation to spend the weekends with, but according to Mom, hanging out with the boy I made mud-pies with when I was first stating grade school doesn't count. When the news made its way around town that a new family was moving into town –willingly, many emphasized – it was the perfect opportunity for my parents to gang up on me and explain how it would be so kind of me to introduce myself to them and befriend them on their first day.

"That's nice," I say, in hopes of shutting the conversation down before it starts. "I'm sure many people will be there to bombard them."

"Bella."

"Sorry."

When I finish washing the dishes, mom placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Just try. It's all I ask." She says before giving me a hug and quick kiss on the cheek.

* * *

 **I AM NOT ONE TO SWEAR.**

Mom does not mind if it just slips out, every once in a while. Even if it was more than once in a while and I adopted every swear word in the English language and wrapped it up with a nice bow on top, she still would not care enough to reprimand me. Dad was more lenient on swearing, and would reprimand me accordingly.

However, I cannot stop myself from shouting, "Fuck!"

As a gift for my sixteenth birthday, my parents bought me a car. A truck. Granted, it was from a family friend and was thoroughly used, but it was repaired to be safe for everyone on the road. It's old (1984 is the guess Billy Black gave as to when he bought it used) and ugly, loud red colors with big, round fenders, and its bulbous cab made it to be an eyesore for many. Not for me; I love this truck almost as much as I love my own personal space.

And someone keyed it.

Mike pulled me aside after our first class, allowing the wave of students to pass by us as he gently broke the news. According to him, he was walking by my car when he noticed the scratch on the right side of the cab. He was tardy by only a few seconds, and the entire time our teacher was lecturing he was trying to catch my attention. I thought he was lying in another attempt to catch me alone to ask me out for dinner or something, but the evidence is right in front of me.

I pull myself together long enough to stop yelling alongside the clouds. "Thanks for telling me," I say to him. "Can you tell –"

"No problem, Bells," Mike says before I finish. We have the same classes the first two classes together, and I have no doubt he'll do what I asked of him if he thinks it'll land him more points outside of the friend zone.

I watch him retreat back into the main building. Sighing, I pull out my phone and wait anxiously for Dad to answer. This is going to be a field day.

* * *

 **BY LUNCH, WORD HAD SPREAD.** Scandals in Forks are always blown out proportion, mainly as a result of a distorted game of telephone. With each rendition of events being shared at every possible chance, it's not uncommon for someone's reputation to be tarnished by the end of the day. It could linger for weeks if there's not another scandal to take the attention away.

I didn't think someone keying my car was noteworthy for anyone who didn't know me personally. Even those who have met me in passing may not understand why such a minor event in my life could cause such a buzz among the student body. My mom's words flash once more in my mind, and I grimace; I don't think stealing the attention away from any one's first day is textbook definition for being nice, and is certainly not the way I envisioned my day.

My friends sit around me, speculating about all of the possible ways that my car could have been keyed. We've been friends since grade school, maybe even before then depending on whose parents you asked. Even if we hadn't been friends for so long, I know there is no way for it to be any of them. I have classes with Mike and Jessica at the time when it must have happened (those were the only two I could rationalize doing something like this, mostly Jessica), and Angela and Ben were too kind for a thought like petty vandalism to even cross their mind. Lauren was an acquaintance for the sake of having someone to be around during the last few classes, but she was away on vacation with her family.

Jessica and Mike bounce ideas off each other. It's obvious to everyone but him that she's into him, and has been since the beginning of middle school. She's hinted at dates, and he would agree before turning around and inviting everyone out to wherever she had suggested. Angela informed me when I pointed it out to her one night while studying for a biology test that Mike doesn't like Jessica in _that_ way because he likes _me in that way_. The next day, I gentle as possible told him I wasn't interested in him, or anyone right now, and gently nudged him Jess' way.

I'm hardly listening to them. The conversation has strayed from realistic possibilities to things like Big Foot, aliens, and vampires. If such creatures exist, it's unlikely that they would spend their time keying a teenage girl's truck.

Jessica gasps, her hands grabbing at my upper arm. Everyone stops giggling and turns towards Jess, curious. "That's them," she whispers and subtly nods to where she's starring.

We turned our attention to where Jessica nodded. At first, I don't understand what's so interesting about a group of students walking into the cafeteria. Then I realized it wasn't _just_ a group of students.

They're dressed out of a fashion catalogue, dripping in expensive fabric and oozing confidence as they scan the cafeteria for an empty table. A collective hush falls over everyone in the room as they begin to walk.

There are five of them. They aren't talking and they aren't making eye contact with anybody they passed. As they walk by, it is easy to spot that they don't look anything alike. Of the three boys, one is so muscled it looked as if he just left the WWE ring, with dark curly and a hint of smile playing at his lips. The second is taller than the other, lean but still well built. He too has curly hair, but unlike the first, his are honey blond and fall wildly about his face. The last of the three is lanky and less bulky, and his bronze hair is styled neatly. He seems the most boyish of them all; the others could have easily passed for college students, or even _teachers_.

Unlike the boys who have some similarities between them, the two girls are opposites. The taller of the two is statuesque, with long blond hair and a body that seems best suited on the cover of _Vogue_ or _Sports Illustrated_. My self-esteem (and probably every girl who has been in her presence thus far) has taken a major hit just looking at her. The other is significantly shorter and smaller in every sense of the word. Small, dainty features contrast with her pitch-black hair that is cropped short and sticks out in every direction.

"Is it just me or do they look exactly alike yet completely different?" Mike whispers once they passed.

We all nod.

Every single one of them is chalky pale, paler than any of us. They all have very dark eyes despite everything we learned in the genealogy section of our Bio class. Dark shadows under their eyes are also visible – purplish, bluish, bruise-like. It seems as if they all had trouble sleeping the night before. Even despite all of this, it isn't the reason no one could look away.

 _Each and every one of them were all devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful._ They weren't people you ever expected to see because these are the type of people artists carve out by hand, molding and shaping the clay for years until it's just right. It was hard to decide who is the most beautiful – the blond girl or the bronze-haired boy.

Jessica takes the opportunity of the screeching of the chairs to explain who they are. "I had them in my last two classes," she starts. "The muscular one is Emmett Cullen, and the one with the red hair is Edward Cullen. Jasper Hale is the blond dude, and his twin sister is Rosalie. Alice Cullen is the short one."

Mike laughs and jabs Eric's side. "I bet I can get a date with Rose before you."

Before Eric can respond, Jessica cuts in. " _Nice_ ," she says sarcastically. "But they're _together together_. And they _live together_."

I guffaw. Mike rolls his eyes and brushed off her comment. "Uh-huh, sure."

Obviously annoyed, Jessica levels him with a glare. "I dare you to go over there and ask her out then."

Mike sputters and turns bright red. It is easy to see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to think of a way to get out of it, and Jessica smirks as she settled in her chair beside me once more. She's obviously confident that he doesn't have the courage to make his way across the lunchroom to ask her out, but her expression quickly changes when Mike squares his shoulders and agrees.

I stifled a laugh at how slowly her features morphed into surprise, before turning my attention to what will undoubtedly be, the next scandal to rock the city of Forks.

We all collectively watch as Mike walks towards them. Eric can't stop laughing, and at one point, cups his hands together to shout something, but Angela stops him. Jessica fumes silently beside me, and I wish I could make light of the situation but alas, humor is not a strong suit of mine.

Mike reaches the table, and by the looks of it, introduces himself with a grand wave of his hand. He spins on his heel and gestures over to us, and I duck my head in embarrassment. Ben nudges me to pick my head back up, and reluctantly, I comply. There Mike stood, frozen on the spot as the blond – Rosalie, I think – turns her head to the side and presses her lips to the muscular one.

"I told you," Jessica sings.

By the time Mike returns, we still haven't recovered from the fit of laughter.

* * *

 **I STOPPED IN MY TRACKS**. There is an odd number of students in my biology class, which means one person has a lab table to themselves. Much to Mike's disappointment, I been content to be that person. However, the bronze-haired boy from lunch is now in our class.

And he is sitting next to my seat.

I focus on keeping one foot in front of the other as I make my way to my now shared table. I can feel my heart beating in my ears and my face turn hot as he made eye contact with me. His face slowly contorts into a pained, horrified expression with each step I take. Bewildered by his antagonistic stare, I take my seat.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see his posture change. He is leaning away from me, sitting on the extreme edge of his chair and with his nose wrinkling as if he smells something bad. Discreetly, I sniff my hair; strawberries. Most people don't seem to have an issue with the smell. I try not to think too much of it, and let my hair fall in front of my face.

Throughout the lecture, he never relaxes. I peek through the dark curtain of my hair every few minutes or so. His hand is fisted on his left leg, his tendons staining against his skin. Up close, with the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, I can see that he too is muscular. He is nowhere near as scrawny as I first thought.

Class drags on longer than normal. The entire time Mr. Banner was lecturing on the anatomy of a cell, I wait for the boy's fist to relax. No matter what, though, it never does; he sits so rigid, I question if he is even breathing. What is wrong with him? I make a mental note to ask Jessica if he were like this in any other classes, too.

I peek once more, and immediately flush and look away.

He is glaring at me like I am a petulant child, his black eyes full of angry repulsion. I flinch away, shrinking into my chair. _If looks could kill_.

The bell rings loudly, startling me. He's the first out of his seat, rising fluidly with his back to me. Before anyone else is even out of their seat, he is gone.

Aghast, I stare blankly at the door. He was so mean. Did he recognize me from when Mike briefly pointed us out to him? Even if he did, it wasn't fair. Slowly, I begin to gather my things, trying to bury the anger that's simmering. I know if I allow it to fester, my eyes will water and I would not be able to stop the tears from flowing. It is a humiliating tendency.

Mike meets me at the door, falling into step beside me as we make our way to gym. He didn't bring up the bronze-haired boy's behavior in class, and I pray that I was the only one who was witness to it. But as we enter the gym, he finally asks, "So, did you stab Edward Cullen with a pencil or what? He didn't act like that before."

I cringe. "That's his name?" I asked, deciding to play dumb.

"Yes," he nods. "He looked like he was in pain or something."

I shrug. "I don't know. I never spoke to him."

Mike purses his lips as he lingers. Finally, he says, "If I were lucky enough to sit by you, I would have talked to you."

I smiled at him before heading to the girls' locker room. Even Mike's comment isn't enough to ease my irritation.


	3. Intermittence

**2\. INTERMITTENCE**

 **FOR THE REST OF THE WEEK, EDWARD CULLEN DOES NOT RETURN TO SCHOOL.** Charlie grumbles when the news made its way throughout town, complaining under his breath that he _knew_ at least one of those kids were going to be trouble. As it turns out, Edward and his siblings are adopted. Dr. Cullen and his wife decided to move here to fill in the opening at the E.R. after Alaska proved to be too cold and too isolating.

As relieved as I am when I spot his siblings (sans him,) I can't help the anger I have budding inside. It is egotistical of me to feel as if his absence is a direct result of what had transpired that first Monday. I hadn't even spoken a word to him, and yet, ridiculously, I lie awake at night picturing just how I can have such a negative effect on someone by just _sitting beside them_. I didn't mention it to my parents, and given the initial reaction dad had to Edward Cullen's absence, I know it was the right decision.

Mom spent most of the days out of the house now. I think she's secretly hoping to run into Dr. and Mrs. Cullen while she runs errands that don't need to be done. The amount of food she has bought is enough to feed several hungry quarter-backers. I've cooked a different meal every day to save us from one of mom's creations. By Wednesday, we have all settled into our new routine.

The next Monday is better. I no longer try to sneak glances at his siblings where they stand next to their silver _Volvo_ to see if Edward is present. Angela greets me in the parking lot, and she falls into step beside me. The weather is cold, and the clouds are dark and heavy, just waiting to rain down on us. Angela shivers beside me and says, "I think it's going to snow."

I groan. I hate snow.

After English, I discovered that Angela's prediction is right. It is snowing. Mike scrapes some of it off the ground beside me, eyeing any potential victims. I could hear others doing the same and used my binder as a shield. When people start throwing wet stuff, I move inside.

The entire morning is spent planning a snowball fight in the parking lot after school. It is an unspoken tradition for us at Forks High that the first snowfall of the year calls for an extensive and epic snowball fight in the midst of the blizzard. I'd either have to rush out of class and make it to the parking lot within two or three minutes or hide out in the gym until after it was over.

Jessica and I walk into the cafeteria after Spanish. Mike came in immediately after us, shaking off the snow in his hair, laughing as he tries to get me at least a little damp. He and Jessica talk animatedly about the impending mush fight as we get in line for lunch. Out of habit, I glance at the Cullen-Hale table.

And nearly die on the spot.

There are five people at the table.

Jessica pulled on my arm. "Bella? What do you want?"

Self-conscious, I turned my head back to Jessica. My ears were hot, yet I hadn't done anything wrong. There is no reason for me to feel this way, I chided myself.

"You ok, Bella?" Mike asks.

"Actually, I feel a little sick. I think I'll just get a soda today." By now, I had caught up to the end of the line.

I wait for them to get their food, and then follow them to a table. My eyes never leave sight of my worn-out sneakers.

Slowly, I sip my soda. My stomach continued to churn throughout the conversation. I must have looked paler than normal; twice, Mike asked how I was feeling. I told him it was nothing, but I was contemplating on whether or not I _should_ play it up to escape to the nurse's office for the next hour.

Ridiculous. I shouldn't have to run away.

I decided to allow myself one glance at the Cullen-Hale table. If Edward is trying to murder me with his eyes, then I would skip out on Biology like the coward I was.

Through my lashes, I watch them laugh. Edward, Jasper, and Emmett all had their hair entirely saturated with snow. Alice and Rosalie were leaning away as Emmett shook his now dripping hair toward them. They are enjoying the snowy day like everyone else – only they look more like a scene from a movie than the rest of us.

Aside from the laughter, something had changed. I couldn't quite determine what the difference was, but it was there. I examine Edward more closely, and determine that his skin is less pale – flushed from the snow, maybe – and the circles under his eyes are much less prominent. Still, the change wasn't obvious and I ponder the possibilities.

Jessica waved her hand in my face. "What are you staring at?"

Before I can answer, Jess is already following my stare. In that second, his eyes flickered over to mine.

I dropped my head, my hair falling over my shoulder to protect me. I am sure, though, that the instant our eyes met, that he was no longer harsh or unfriendly as he was during our last meeting. Oddly, he looked curious.

Jess giggles beside me. "Edward Cullen is staring at you."

"He doesn't look angry, does he?" Better safe than sorry.

"No," she responds, obviously confused. "Should he be?"

"I don't think he likes me," I confide. I feel queasy still. I put my head down on my arm.

"The Cullen's don't seem to like anybody… well they don't acknowledge anyone long enough to like them. But he's _still_ staring at you."

"Stop looking at him," I hiss.

Jessica snickers, but she returns her attention to Mike and Eric's arm wrestling match.

For the rest of lunch, I am vigilant. I very carefully keep my eyes on my table, even when my insides were screaming at me to permit a cursory glance at them. I also decided to honor the deal I inadvertently gave to myself and go to class. Still, my stomach did little somersaults at the thought of sitting next to him again.

I didn't really want to walk to class with Mike – he's a popular target for snowballs – but when we arrived at the door, everyone groans in unison. It was raining, all traces of snow washed away in clear, icy ribbons down the street. Pleased, I pulled my hood up.

Mike complained the entire way to class.

Once inside, I relax with relief. My table is still empty. Mr. Banner is milling about the classroom, examining microscopes and the box of slides on the table. Class isn't due to start for a few minutes and the room is alive with conversation. I keep my eyes away from the door, doodling idly on the cover of my notebook.

I hear very clearly when the chair next to me moved. Determined, I kept my eyes on the pattern I was coloring in.

"Hello."

I look up, stunned he is speaking to me. He is sitting as far away as he can, but instead of turned away from me, he has angled himself towards me. His hair is wet and disheveled, yet he somehow manages to look as if he just finished shooting a hair gel commercial. His face is dazzling, with a slight smile on his lips. However, his eyes are careful.

"My name is Edward Cullen," he continues. "I didn't have a chance to introduce myself last week. You must be Bella Swan."

My mind is spinning. Briefly, I consider the idea that I possibly had made our previous encounter up, but I know I had not. Still, he is perfectly polite now.

I have to speak, I realize with an awful sense of dread. He is waiting.

"H-how did you know my name?" I ask, lamely.

He laughs, soft and enchanting. "It's on your notebook."

Blushing wildly, I look away awkwardly.

Mr. Banner begins class soon after. He explains the lab we are about to do; the slides in the box were out of order, and we must work as lab partners to separate the slides of the onion root tip cells into the phases of mitosis they represent and label them accordingly. No books. In twenty minutes, Mr. Banner will be making his way around class to see what we've accomplished.

"You may begin," Mr. Banner concluded.

"Ladies first, partner?" Edward asked. I look up to see him smiling a crooked smile that I could only stare like an idiot.

"Or, I could start if you wish." The smile faded, and it was obvious he was beginning to question my mental competency.

"No," I answer. "I'll start."

I show off, just a little. We have already done variations of this lab on paper at least a dozen times before, and I know what I am looking for. It should be easy. I grab the first slide and snap it into place and adjusted it quickly. I study the slide briefly.

"Prophase."

"Do you mind if I look?" he asks, as I begin to remove the slide. His hand catches mine, and I shiver. His hands are colder than ice, like he had been balancing a handful of snow just minutes prior. Still, it isn't why I jerk my hand away. When he touched me, my hand stung as if an electric current had passed through us.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, pulling his hand back. He continues to reach for the microscope, and I watch, still dazed as he examined the slide even quicker than I had.

"Prophase," he agrees and quickly writes it down on the first space of our worksheet. When he's done, he swiftly switches the slides and gives it a cursory glance.

"Anaphase," he says, writing it down.

"May I?" I keep my voice indifferent.

His crooked smile returns as he pushes the microscope to me.

I look eagerly through the lens, only to be disappointed. He is right.

"Slide three?" I hold out my hand.

He hands it to me. It is painfully obvious that he is being careful to not touch my skin again.

I take the most fleeting look I could manage. "Interphase."

I pass him the microscope before he could ask for it. He glances it at briefly and then writes it down on our paper. I briefly consider writing down the answers while he glances at the slides, but I am afraid to ruin the page with my haphazard scrawl.

We finish before the rest of the class. Mike and his partner were arguing over two slides, and the table next to theirs had their textbooks open in their laps, hidden under the table.

Alone with my thoughts, I try my hardest to resist glancing up at him. I try and focus on finishing the doodle I had started earlier, but my eyes drifted up on their own. Surprisingly, Edward is too, watching me. He, however, is not trying to be discreet. The same inexplicable look that was on his face earlier is still there. Suddenly, I identified the subtle change in his face.

"Did you get contacts?"

He is visibly taken aback by my abruptness. "No."

"Oh," I say lamely. "I thought they look different."

He shrugs and looks away. "Must be the fluorescence."

Vividly, I remember the flat black of his eyes. The color was so striking against his pale skin and red hair that it was impossible _not_ to notice how jarring it was. Today, they were lighter, almost amber.

I don't think fluorescence can cause _that_ drastic of a change.

Mr. Banner came to our table as I was trying to reason out why someone would lie over getting contacts. He glances over our shoulders, and then moves to stand beside Edward to read over our answers.

"Ms. Swan," he starts, setting the paper down with obvious annoyance. "Don't you think Edward should have had a chance with the microscope?"

My mouth falls slack. _What?_

Before I can regain my composure, Edward speaks. "Actually, I identified three of the five."

Mr. Banner raises his eyebrows. "Have you done this lab before?"

Edward nods, flashing a sheepish grin. "Not with onion root, however."

"Whitefish blastula?"

"Yes, sir."

Mr. Banner nods. "Were you in advanced placement?"

"Yes."

"Well," he says after a moment. "I guess it's good you guys are partners." He mumbles something else as he walks away. After he left, I begin to doodle on my notebook again.

 _What just happened?_

"It's too bad about the snow," Edward says. I have a feeling he was forcing himself to make small talk with me. Paranoia took me once again. It's almost as if he heard my confession to Jessica during lunch.

"No, not really." I answer, trying to pretend that my heart wasn't trying to jump out of my chest right now.

"Do you not like the cold?"

"Forks must be difficult to live, then."

I shrug. "It's all I know."

We fall into a lull in the conversation. Edward does not shift his position like I expect him too once we ran out of topics to cover; instead, he watches me intently as I begin a new doodle. He's more of a distraction than Mike is on his worst day by just _sitting_ there, that I end up going through half of my eraser in one sitting.

Mr. Banner comes to collect our papers at the end of class. "You know," Edward says as Mr. Banner approaches, "you are very difficult to read."

Confused, I respond. "My Mother always calls me an open book."

"I disagree. I am a good reader, you know."

Flatly, I say, "Surely."

* * *

 **My guilt has been eating me up.**

During the volleyball that I was forced to play, my mind kept inadvertently straying to the conversation Mr. Banner and Edward had. It dawned on me with a sinking realization that I hadn't thanked him for standing up for me. Even if I could have done it myself – once I regained composure – it was a nice thing to do for someone you've, up to that point, never had a conversation with.

I find him with his siblings, leaning against the silver door of his _Volvo_. They are talking amongst themselves. Briefly, I consider thanking him tomorrow, as walking up to where they are standing seems a bit intimidating, but I know I wouldn't be able to sleep tonight knowing I had the opportunity and didn't take it.

I focus on placing one foot in front of the other. As I near, I can feel my heartbeat speed up and my face heat up. What's one night without sleep? I can get through tomorrow on a cup of coffee. I've done it before. Besides, tomorrow is Friday and I would have all day to sleep.

As I pass, I hear a low, sultry voice say, "It's so old, she probably didn't even notice it was keyed."

When I get into my cab, I close my eyes tightly and try to quell the urge to cry.


	4. As Luck Would Have It

**3\. AS LUCK WOULD HAVE IT**

 **WHEN DAD CAME HOME, I SAID NOTHING.** Not when he asked what was for dinner, not when he asked how my day was. I didn't flinch when he pressed the back of his hand to my forehead and frowned, closing the door behind him as he left me to my misery.

Mom comes in and rambles about all of her theories on what has gotten me down. It would be sweet if she weren't so annoyingly accurate. I tuned her out after my face flushed and gave me away; her advice, no matter how well meaning, is terrible more often than not.

I don't come down for dinner, and I don't say a word for the rest of the night. Mom must have told Dad her suspicions; he's not giving me hell for ignoring them, as he would have just like when I was thirteen and rebelling.

The weekend past in a similar fashion, save for a phone call with Jessica asking me to come to Port Angeles soon. The dance was coming up, and Jessica wanted opinions on dresses. I agreed too quickly, eager to get off the phone. Jess didn't notice - or didn't care.

Monday rolled in with the black sky. The streets were covered in snow, icicles dangling from the tree branches before the sun even rose. I spent the night watching the storm manifest, and now, my body aches from the uncomfortable slouch and the dread from seeing Edward Cullen. Plus the possibility of landing on my face more than once today had me wrapped up like the Michelin man.

The truck didn't have any issues. Still, I drove slowly. I trusted the ice even less on four wheels.

When I pull into the school's lot, I stifle a groan. Edward Cullen and his family are standing around their cars, talking amongst themselves as they pointedly look at everything and everyone _but_ me and my truck. I roll my eyes and pull into an empty spot farthest away from them.

Something silver caught my eye as I stepped out. Holding the side for support, I knelt down to further examine my tires. Thin chains crisscrossing into diamonds are wrapped around my tire, connecting to each other at the rim. Dad had gotten up early enough – or went to bed late; I didn't see him while I was perched at the window – to put snow chains on my truck. My throat felt tight. I don't think I will ever get used to being taken care of, and Dad's concern (for my safety or for the towns) caught me by surprise.

I was by the back of the truck, struggling to fight back the tears when I heard an odd sound.

There is a high – pitched screech. It grew painfully loud rapidly. I look up, startled.

I see several things simultaneously. Dad often describes events like these as fast paced, almost instinctual in the way you move to survive. Nothing and no one moved like the movies; everyone was rapidly trying to save the things important to them, no thoughts to overthink how one move could be detrimental to someone else. It's just you and what's right in front of you. Watching the van skid towards me, I realized just how right he is.

The adrenaline rush seemed to make my brain work much faster and I was able to look at several things to determine my next course of action. Edward Cullen was standing on the other side of the lot, watching with unashamed horror. I ignored him, and pushed myself away from the truck and towards the sidewalk. The blue van spinning wildly in the parking lot was going to hit the back corner of my truck, and had I sat frozen, I would have been pinned between them.

I stand as far away as I can. The van collides and there's a loud crash of metal slamming into metal, scratching and roaring with each other before finally coming to a halt. My heart is beating in my ears and my breathing is jagged.

And then the world came to life again. A wall of people with tears streaming down their faces, shouting at each other, shouting at me.

"Bella? Are you ok?"

"Someone get Tyler!"

"Call the police!"

I stand frozen in my spot, looking at my mangled truck. I can hear the squeal of the door as a group of students try to pry it away to free Tyler. Tears well and I can feel myself shaking. _Holy shit. Holy shit. What the actual fuck?_

"Bella? Bella, it's ok. You're ok."

Cold hands press against my shoulders, firm and comforting. Edward Cullen stood in front of me, looking down at me. His lips are moving but I can't hear over the sound of my thoughts.

 _I could have died._

Edward pulls me closer to him. I can feel his breath against my ear. "Bella, listen to my voice. Listen to me, Bella."

I try, and I focus on the way his body feels against mine. It's solid, and the way his arms wrap around me to pull him flush against his chest catches me off guard. I gasp, and try to pull away but he only tightens his hold on me. "Relax, Bella. I've got you."

Somehow, I do. Wrapped in his arms, I feel myself start to relax against him. I feel safe, like he is my shield against the dangers of the world. It is in his arms where I finally stop fighting my tears and press my face into his sweater. I sob, ugly and embarrassing in any other situation but I could not care. I could have been crushed, injured or even dead had I not moved in time.

We stay like this until the ambulance comes barreling down the street. I pull away, keeping my head down and use my sleeve to dry my cheeks. Edward keeps his hands on my shoulders, watching me with a soft intensity that makes me blush.

The stretchers were brought to the van, and Tyler was lifted onto it. Blood dripped from his temple and onto the white cloth. His arm is soaked in blood too, and he is moaning as they fasten the neck brace on him and wheel him into the back of the truck.

Before the ambulance with Tyler pulls out of the school, the police arrive.

I can hear Dad yelling my name, panic constricting his voice when he notices me sitting on the ledge of the ambulance. The paramedic examining me clicks their flashlight and shines it into my eyes for a brief second. I have no visible wounds, but they assess me anyways.

"Bella!"

"I'm ok, Dad. Healthy as a horse."

Dad presses his hands to my face and kisses my forehead before turning to the paramedic for their opinion. I tune them out, instead watching the crowd of people soberly look on. I stifle the feeling of humiliation at the sight of me in – or on, in this case – an ambulance.

Satisfied with his results, Dad pulls me into a hug. "I'm so glad you're ok."

I smile weakly, and nod.

"But we're still going to the hospital."

I groan.

* * *

 **THE EMERGENCY ROOM HAS NOT CHANGED SINCE I WAS LAST HERE.** The row of beds in one long room is still separated by dull and faded pastel curtains. I remember vividly yanking the curtain closed when I was thirteen and broke my arm; Mom was taking pictures throughout the visit to send to Dad, and I was so embarrassed at the thought of the whole police station arriving at the hospital and demanding to see me.

A nurse puts a pressure cuff on my arm and runs the thermometer across my head. Dad stood in the corner, watching the nurse take down my readings. She reassured him everything was normal, but the wrinkle in his forehead would not disappear.

There's another furry of people rushing past me. A second stretcher is brought in beside me. Tyler's head is wrapped in bloody bandages, his arm cradled against his chest as he stares anxiously at me. He looks a hundred times worse than I feel.

"Bella, I'm so sorry!"

"I'm fine. Are you ok? You look awful!" As I spoke to him, nurses begin unwinding the bandages from his head. It looked worse than what it is; only a few shallow scratches on his temple and left cheek.

Tyler ignored the nurses and what is going on. "I thought I was going to kill you! I went too fast, hit the ice wrong…" he trailed off with a wince when a nurse dabbed at one of the cuts.

"Don't worry. You still have a terrible aim."

He ignores the subtle jab at his aim and continues his onslaught of questions. Dad watches our interaction, visibly annoyed at Tyler. After the twelfth apology, Dad yanked the curtain closed and cursed under his breath. Still, I can hear his voice through the curtain. No matter how many times I try to console him, he continues to torment himself. I close my eyes and attempt to ignore him.

"Is she sleeping?"

My eyes flew open. Edward Cullen stood at the foot of my bed, a cookie in his hand and a paper cup in the other. "Hi," he says when his eyes meet mine.

"Hi," I reply.

My throat chokes up when I remember how nice he was. Suddenly, the anger I had clutched onto these last few days dissipated and all that is left is gratitude. I smile and motion for him to step in.

"Dad," I say, but he holds up his hands and steps out. I can see pink coloring his face.

"These are for you," Edward says. He places the cookie and the cup on the tray beside me. "I thought maybe you could use some sugar."

"Thanks."

Edward smiled and we fell into an awkward silence. After a few moments, Edward spoke again. "What's the verdict?"

"I'm fine, just trapped."

Edward smiled, wicked and charming all at once. "I can help with that."

"Wha –"

Edward is gone before I can even ask him what he meant.

He returns quickly, a doctor walking alongside him. He's young, blond, and incredibly handsome. I sent a brief thanks the universe for Mom not being here; surely, this doctor would become her new fascination.

There is a slight similarity between the two. They both exude exhaustion, dark circles under his eyes and a sallowness in the hollow of his cheeks. They're both at ease with each other.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Cullen." He offered his hand and I nearly jumped from the frigid temperature of his hands. If he noticed, he did not show it. "How are you feeling?"

"Unharmed and annoyed."

Dr. Cullen smiles and nods in understanding. He looks over my chart and then briefly examines me. When he's done, he shakes my hand and tells me Dad is in the waiting room and to go home and rest.

I thank him and jump off the bed. I land on shaky legs, and reassure everyone I am indeed fine, just clumsy. Dr. Cullen seemed satisfied with that and turned to address Tyler.

I moved to Edward's side. "Can I talk to you?"

He nods and we walk towards the waiting room together. It is not a far walk, only a hallway and a set of heavy double doors separates me from my freedom. "I just want to thank you. For earlier." I stumble, and Edward nods along beside me.

"I'm glad you're ok, Bella." Edward says, softly and almost under his breath. I try to look him in the eyes to see if the sincerity I hear is true and not a figment of my imagination running loose. "Glad I could help." He adds.

We walk in silence and Edward pushes the doors open with ease. I thank him and say goodbye. Dad stands up immediately, throwing his arm around my shoulder and pressing me close to him once again. "I'm fine. Doctor released me and everything."

Satisfied, Dad released me. "Can we go home?"

Dad nods and leads me to the car before the whole town of Forks descends upon us. There will be time to answer their questions later. Right now, I needed to go home and decompress.

We drive in silence. I kept my eyes wide open, watching the tires of every car surrounding us. The ride from the hospital to the house is short, and it takes seeing the driveway to finally relax a little.

Mom opens the front door and rushes out. She wraps her arms around me and we sway for a minute before Dad ushers us inside and out of the cold. It takes a few minutes to convince her I'm ok. Finally, after several long minutes of hysteria, she calmed down enough to let me go to my room.

Dad did not return to work later that day and Mom attempted to cook lasagna. Every half hour they peaked their heads into my room to make sure I am still breathing. After dinner, I kiss their cheeks and say goodnight.

That was the first night I dreamt of Edward Cullen.


	5. Dark Paradise

**4\. DARK PARADISE**

 **THE THUNDER EXCITES ME.** Somewhere, the rain has begun to fall in constant sheets of cool relief from the buzzing humidity that stuck around during the day. The clouds rolling over are nowhere near as dark as the ones along the horizon; far away from me.

My insides are tight with nervous excitement at what is to come. Someone stands beside me; their features are blurry and indistinguishable from the sudden wave of fog that surrounds us. "What are we waiting for?" I ask, nearly bouncing on the balls of my feet. I remember being under the impression that we would not have to wait too long.

"Just a little longer," someone soothes.

I whip my head around and try to find the source of the voice. The world spins around me. I plant my feet firmly and extend my arms out from my side to try and regain my balance - to stop the spinning. Still, my head spins – or maybe it really is the world – and with it the voices start swirling around me.

"Bella?"

It is Edward's voice. I recognize the smooth roll of the l's, the soft way he calls my name when it's just us. Comforted, I call out to him. "Edward?"

Suddenly, the world stops spinning. Edward stands beside me, his hands cradling my face. His eyes are wide, the bright yellow of his eyes piercing my own brown eyes. There's a wild sense of urgency in the way his mouth is moving. My ears are filled with cotton; I can't here anything.

And then he's gone. "No!"

When my eyelids open, I'm no longer outside. My ceiling fan spins slowly, and the covers are tangled between my legs. Sweat drips down my forehead and my breathing is labored while I take in my surroundings.

Once, my dreams were a dark paradise. A place I can escape to when the real world got too much.

Now, I dread falling asleep.

It takes me a minute to calm myself down. The dreams are slowly becoming more and more intense and more frequent. It always ends the same; Edward is standing over me, talking to me before he disappears and I'm left alone. Still shaken, I gather my thoughts and head to the bathroom to clean myself up.

But I quickly run out of things to do in the bathroom. My hair had been washed just a day prior and there's no need to shave when the weather is still below freezing. Even blow-drying my hair hadn't done enough to pass enough time to keep my mind off the reoccurring thoughts that swirl around my brain.

Most of them revolved around Edward. His actions the day Tyler Crowley lost control of his car. The kindness he showed in comforting me in the aftermath, and again when he checked up on me at the hospital. How one day he can treat me as if I'm the most interesting person in the world, and the next I don't exist.

It is all starting to drive me insane.

Frazzled and annoyed at my thoughts, I pack my bag and take Mom's keys. While Billy works on my truck and attempt to salvage as much of it as he can, Mom offered up her car while mine is out of commission. I suspect it's another way to delay her finding another job, judging by the way Dad gave her a look after she announced her decision. Hopefully, Billy can repair my truck fast.

The lot is nearly empty when I pull into the lot. I park in the front lot, hoping to be out of last period soon enough not to have to sit in a long line of students trying to get home. At the very least, I tell myself, I won't have to walk too far in the rain to get to the car.

I spend some time in the car scrolling through my phone, and when there's nothing left to check, I begrudgingly get out of the car and head to the library. It'll be warm there, and quiet too. I can read while avoiding becoming a spectacle in the parking lot once more.

Like I expected, the library is empty save for the book-keeper. She barely looks up from her screen when she hears the door close behind me, and if she realized it is still incredibly early for most students to be on campus, much less in the library, she hid it well. I pull out the chair closest to the doors, and begin reading.

Time passes. In the distance, I can hear car doors slamming and the growing chatter of students as they arrive. I hear the buses pulling in, too. Still, I don't look up from my book; too busy trying to stay busy so my thoughts don't stray to places I do not want them to go. Until, someone says my name. "Bella."

Edward Cullen stands on the other side of the table I'm at. He wears a sheepish grin, his hair slicked back and wet, presumably from the rain. His clothes are damp, too. "Mind if I sit?" he adds.

I shake my head. Edward pulls out the chair across from me and smiles. "How are you?"

"Good," I say. I don't sound convincing, even to my own ears. Edward furrows his brows and looks as if he's deciding if he wants to open that can of worms. I hope he doesn't; how do you explain to someone you can't focus on anything but them?

"Are you sure?" he asks.

I nod.

 _Please don't push the issue. Please. Please._

Edward nods, and seems to relax at my confirmation. "How's your truck?"

I shrug. The memory of Rosalie mentioning an old car being keyed made it's way to the forefront of my mind. Suddenly, I'm defensive. "It's so old," I start. "No one would probably notice if it was keyed, much less in an accident."

Edward cringes visibly. Immediately, I feel bad. Before I can apologize, Edward rubs the nape of his neck and says, "I hoped you didn't hear that."

 _But I did_ , lingers on the tip of my tongue. I bite down, averting my eyes to anywhere but him. "I have no excuses," he says. "I do apologize on behalf of Rosalie and my family."

"Thank you," I tell him. "And I'm sorry. For everything."

"For everything?" Edward asks.

I nod.

Edward thinks for a moment. "I'm sorry, too. For everything."

The bell rings, and Edward follows me out of the library.

* * *

 **JESSICA STOPS WALKING ABRUPTLY.** I nearly run into her. Side-stepping her as quickly as I could, I manage to stumble over my feet once before I regain my balance. Angela offers me a hand to steady myself, but I don't need it. "Oh my God," Jessica says. "Why is Edward Cullen sitting by himself today?"

Lauren pulls her hair out of her face. "Family problems?"

Angela tisks. "It's not nice to speculate."

Lauren ignores her and starts to adjust her outfit. Jessica starts running down possible reasons that could explain the situation at hand. I ignore them, and follow Angela into the lunch line. If anyone could understand my distaste for gossip, it's Angela.

We sit at our table. Mike and Eric are already speculating about Edward, and Jessica is all too happy to share with Mike her ideas on what's behind the sudden change in seating. Angela asks me about our Lit paper, and I answer as thorough as I can, happy to have a reason to not participate in the conversation around us.

Angela leans in to me. "I think Edward is staring at you," she whispers.

I look up from my outline. She is right. My eyes meet Edward's right away. My stomach constricts and my throat is suddenly very dry. Was he watching me? Edward motions for me to come join him, kicking the chair opposite of him out. I point to myself, confused. He nods.

I look around to see if anyone has caught what just happened. Angela laughs beside me, shaking her head. "Go," she tells me. "I can manage."

"What do I say?"

Angela shrugs. "You're on your own."

Slowly, I pack up my things. I'm stalling; it's obvious by the meticulous way I'm sliding in folders and checking to make sure I have all of my belongings. Angela is more than amused. I'm happy at least one of us is enjoying the current state of affairs.

Edward is all smiles when I approach the table. "Won't you come join me?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"And if I said 'yes'?"

"I have a feeling it'd mean 'no'."

"You are correct."

Sighing, I place my tray onto the table and sit across from this. "I'm assuming you called me over because you need help with your homework."

Edward shakes his head with a soft snort. "Unfortunately, I do not. However, you can tell your friends that." With a subtle toss of his head, he gestured to where the others are. Jessica and Lauren are starring, mouths agape. Mike is nearly red; I'm sure if I move over another seat smoke would shoot out of his ears. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to take you away from them I just –"

"You didn't." I say, too quickly. Too eager. "Take me away from them I mean."

"Sure seems like it."

"They're just," I trail off. I don't know the right word to describe the simple complexity of my friends. "Confused."

Edward nods. "And you? Are you confused?"

"Incredibly."

He laughs. "Isn't it obvious?"

"If it was, I wouldn't be confused."

"I want to be your friend, Bella."

Aghast, I trip over my words. "What?"

Slower, Edward repeats what he said. Humor colors his words. It seems today is full of humoring people at my own expense. _Great._

"Are you sure?" I ask, stupidly. "I mean, friends don't treat each other like they don't exist one day and do the next." The words came pouring out like word vomit, my tone accusatory. For the second time today, I regret it.

Edward winces. "I am sorry about that. There are things that complicated the matter, but have since been resolved."

"What things?"

"Family matters."

My skepticism is written across my face. "Family matters?" I repeat.

"Yes."

"They've been completely and utterly resolved?"

"For the most part."

I shake my head. "Which means the second things go awry I don't exist anymore?"

Edward shakes his head. "Not like that, no. It just means there are some things that I cannot change."

"Like what?"

Edward grins. "That's a secret only my _close_ friends know."

I groan.

"How about this," Edward offers. "Why don't you and I go to Port Angeles on Saturday? As friends. I'll pick you up."

"As friends? What would we do?"

Edward shrugs. "You pick, friend."

"Ok," I agree. "I'll let you know by Friday."

"Sounds great."


	6. Important Distinctions

**5\. IMPORTANT DISTINCTIONS**

 **FOR THE FIRST TIME IN MY ENTIRE LIFE, I WISH PEOPLE WOULD LISTEN TO WHAT I HAVE TO SAY.** It is not to say that those who approach me do not listen to my explanation – that is a lie. They do. Albeit a bit too much. As I explain to them, their face visibly falls and their expressions turn sour; they are no longer interested in what I have to say now that my story no longer fits in with the narrative that has been created. It is frustrating.

Jessica and Lauren seem to be the ones most determined to catch me in a lie over the whole debacle. It's unfathomable to them that Edward Cullen wanted help with his homework. And, had I been in their position, I would admittedly have a hard time understanding how someone as smart as Edward Cullen would need help on his homework. Yet, I would never insinuate that someone was lying.

Over the few days that the entire school has been cross-examining me, I considered telling the truth about what Edward and I had talked about that day at lunch. The fallout from such an admission would undoubtedly spiral into something that it never was.

Fuck.

In the midst of the gossip, I still haven't decided on where to go. Jessica is toying with the idea of going to Port Angeles on Saturday to finally go dress shopping. Internally, I stifled the groan that nearly passed my lips, and nodded when she asked if I was still up for it.

Fuck me and my inability to back of plans I already made.

On Friday, I spent the morning hiding from my friends. Jess spent all of last night second-guessing her decision to go dress shopping before even asking anyone – let alone, being asked. The group chat she created late in the evening even managed to make Lauren reconsider her stance on the issue. It took Angela and I nearly two hours to reassure them that going desperate does not come off as desperate or insane. Any of the guys they were hoping to ask them probably hasn't realized the dance is quickly approaching.

I get to class late enough where I won't be bombarded with questions, but not so late I get marked tidy. While Mom wouldn't notice if I were suddenly late to all of my morning classes – maybe even the afternoon classes, depending on how the rest of the day goes – I know all Dad would need to do is a slight flick of the wrist and all of the faculty in the school will be watching my every move like a bird stalking its prey.

Lunch passes in the same fashion as it did the previous day, although, slightly more dramatic with the not-so subtle hints Jess was dropping at Mike. He did not notice. Jessica could probably cover herself in body glitter and spray the words "ask me to the dance" in bright, neon lettering across her chest and Mike still wouldn't notice. Even Angie started to drop hints to Ben about wanting to go to the dance with someone; Ben, thankfully, was more receptive of her hints and seemed to ponder his next move. I hope.

Edward is already at our table when I walked into Biology with Mike at my heels. I take off my coat at the door and hang it up, nodding as Mike is finishing up his story about two hikers that came into his family's store looking for weed. Apparently, it's a riveting tale and he feared for his life. Dad was in tears as he recounted Mike's hysterics over Mom's spaghetti. The story is much more entertaining when Dad is telling it; however, I generally find Dad much more entertaining than Mike.

"Hi," I greet him. Edward really threw himself into being friends, and I no longer find myself on pins and needles in his presence.

"Hello," he returns. Once I have settled in my seat and pulled out my notebook, Edward clears his throat. "I have some unfortunate news."

My mood soured immediately. "Oh?"

Edward sighs. "My family goes hiking whenever the weather clears up. It'll be our first time that we've been able to since moving to Forks."

I meet his eyes, and I can see the toll the dilemma has placed on him. His posture is slouched instead of his usual upright position. The under eye bags that seemed to have taken a permanent residency on his face are more pronounced, so purple it almost looks like fresh bruise. It's clear how much he wishes to be at two places at once, and I immediately feel terrible.

"You should be with your family, Edward."

Edward smiles. "I do wish to spend time with my friend, though."

I shrug my shoulders. "There are other weekends."

"I can argue the same thing," Edward adds. A smile is playing at his lips and I'm glad I am able to relieve some of the stress this has placed on him – if only momentarily.

"What do you suggest, then?"

"Well, Forks is known for sudden and drastic changes in weather." Edward starts, his tone suggestive. "There is a slight chance that we may not be able to go after all."

"Uh-huh."

"And if that does happen, I would need some way to contact you."

Silence falls between us as I process his sentence. Is he asking for my number? Edward probably never had to put forth too much effort into asking for someone's number – much less trying to arrange a time and a place to meet. It is probably true here, too, possibly even more so with the way Lauren and Jessica were tripping over themselves the first few days of their arrival if they were used to deduce just how much people fawned over him.

"I am asking for your number, Bella." Edward deadpans. His lips twitch as if he's attempting to hold in a laugh.

I stumble over my words as Mr. Banner finally walks into class, apologizing for coming in late. The projector is out already, indicating we will probably review the last unit. I give up on trying to speak (for fear of embarrassing myself even further more than I am afraid of Mr. Banner catching me talking while he is) and scribble my number on the corner of my paper and tear it off and slid it to Edward. He glances at it before tucking it into his pocket.

* * *

 **DAD IS HOME BEFORE ME.** My stomach constricts and my hands grow clammy. The implication of him being home before me is always nerve-wracking. Even though our town is relatively quiet in terms of crime, it is still always a possibility that something can go horribly wrong while he's on the job. It's only been a handful of times where he was sent home because of an injury acquired on the job, but it never gets easier.

Stepping into my home, I listen for my parents. The TV in the living room is on, and the light in the kitchen is on as well. I slid off my sneakers and hang my coat on the coat rack and peak my head into the kitchen. Empty.

"Mom? Dad?"

"In here!" Mom responds, her voice coming from the living room.

Dad is on the couch, snoring with a blanket thrown over him. Mom is seated on the floor in front of the couch, sorting through paperwork. "Is Dad ok?"

She nods, and pats the spot next to her. "They sent him home for coughing up his lungs," she jokes. "I think it's the flu, but your Father is being stubborn and is refusing to see a doctor."

I breathe a sigh of relief. "I can call Jacob, see if he can pass a message to Sue."

Mom nods, "That's a good idea. I'll make extra food tonight, then."

I nod, kiss her cheek and head upstairs.

Jake answers on the last ring, out of breath. "Hey," he wheezes out. "Sorry 'bout that."

I laugh. "Billy escape again?"

"You have no idea." He deadpans.

Billy Black and my Father have been friends for decades, and as a result, Jake and I have, too. After his wife died in a car accident, Dad started bringing me around to take Jacob's mind off of things. His older sisters, Rebecca and Rachel, were around my age; whenever I went over, though, they did not seem interested in playing with me, so I made mud-pies with Jake.

As far as I knew, Billy had struggled with diabetes for a long time. Mom blames it on his diet – and Dad's influence, but she never says anything about her suspicions to Dad. Dad just throws his hands in the air and says, "I don't know, Bells," and that's that. The past few years, Billy's diabetes took a turn for the worst and has since been confined to a wheelchair due to the complications. With his mobility restricted, he has taken to rolling himself out of his home and into town without letting anyone know. Jake is the one who has to chase him around town when this happens.

"Did Sue come over yet?"

"Nope."

I sigh in relief. "Dad's sick, but is refusing to see a doctor."

Jake laughs. "Chief is more stubborn then a bull."

"Tell me about it."

"I'll pass it on to Sue, but you know Dad is going to try and catch a lift with her."

"Mom's planning on it."

Jake gagged. "Wonderful," he adds, sarcasm dripping from him lips. "Can't wait."

I laugh and we exchange our good-byes before hanging up. I decide to start on my homework while I wait for our guest to arrive. Mr. Banner assigned some reading for the next chapter, as well as some handouts. There is an essay due in Literature next week, and I could probably start on my rough draft tonight, too. Maybe even get a start on some Algebra, too.

I plug in my earphones and start listening to music. I usually work better to music playing in the background of my mind, and I'm able to recall things better when I have memorized it to the tune of a song. Time flies and I finish the reading and the accompanying worksheets and majority of my rough draft before someone launches themselves onto me.

Jake pulls out my earphones, ignoring my wince of pain. "How could you forget about your best friend visiting you?" He feigns hurt, placing his hand over his heart and sniffing.

"I didn't forget," I tell him, sitting up properly. My back cracks and my neck sighs in relief. "I was just doing homework."

Jake shakes his head. "How can you do homework right after school?"

I shrug. "How can't you?"

"Do you really want to get into that?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"What Mom made."

Jake nods in understanding. "Tacos."

I sigh in relief. Mom has to try really hard to be able to turn tacos into something un-edible. "In that case, no, not at all."

Dinner passes smoothly. Dad sounded nasally and Billy took every opportunity to tease him over it. Even Jacob took a jab at Dad's red eyes. Mom and I stifled our giggles the best we could, but Billy's imitation of Dad sneezing all over a crime scene had Mom in hysterics. "Laugh it up," Dad said, coughing. "This don't happen often."

Jacob cracks another joke and Dad sulks off to get a beer.

Sue arrives shortly after, in her scrubs. Mom sits her down at the table we had cleared off, placing a plate of food in front of her. Sue obliges, pushing her hair out of her face and digging in immediately. Dad waves hello, and heads over to the living room with Billy.

Jake and I head out to the backyard. Dad installed a porch swing a few Christmas' ago as a present for Mom. It doesn't get much use most of the year, but on nights like tonight, it was perfect to cozy up on and catch up on some reading.

The sky is clear. Every star is visible and distinct over the treetops. Even the moon is no longer obscured. I can hear lightning bugs somewhere around us, darting across the sky as bright and as bold as a comet. I long to see them, to catch them in jars with Jake and Mom like we did when we were kids.

We make small talk before Jake clears his throat. "I heard about the new kids. The Cullen's, yeah?"

I nod. "I have some classes with them."

Jake whistles. "How is that working out for you?"

"What does that suppose to mean?"

"Talk of the town is that they're all real pricks."

I sigh. Jake takes this as a sigh of conformation, and yells, "I knew it!"

"Shush, will you."

Jacob rubs his hands together jokingly, and relaxes even further into the porch swing. "The guys will get a kick about this. Tell me who's the bitchiest."

"They're not bitchy," I defend, crossing my arms. "Just…defensive?"

"Defensive?" Jacob laughs now, throwing his head back. "How exactly are teenagers who have a shit load of money 'defensive'?"

I smack his arm. "They're adopted, Jacob. Try to have some empathy."

He wipes the corners of his eyes as the laughter slowly dies down. "Sorry, just…I was scouring the web and it's ironic you used 'defensive' to describe them."

"How so?"

"Get ready for this," Jake crosses his arms behind his head and rocks his heel. "I found some conspiracy theories online about someone stumbling upon a man feasting on an animal here in this lovely town of ours."

I nod. "What's wrong with eating an animal?"

Jacob shook his head. "Not the animal. The _blood_ of the animal."

 _"Oh."_

Jake motions for me to stop interrupting and I comply.

"According to the legend, the man was so startled he turned and ran at a speed faster than the eye can see. It was then that the man who saw this went to examine the animal for any signs of a weapon but there was none. Several weeks later, it's said that the man in the woods ran into him again.

"When they shook hands and exchanged pleasantries, his skin was pale white and ice-cold and void of life. Yet, he walked the Earth same as us, talking and breathing. Terrified, he tried to avoid going into town as much as possible. The man from the woods eventually came to him and swore to never hurt a human – that he feasts on the blood of animals to sustain him in place of human blood.

"This man was said to be so stubborn, that it would have been easier to convince a bull to do your bidding. And yet, he complied without a second thought."

I hold my hands up. "What does any of this have to do with the Cullen's?"

"The man in the woods? His name was _Carlisle Cullen_."

My jaw drops.

Jacob laughs at my dumbfounded expression. "I know."

"It has to be a coincidence."

"That's what I think, too."

I shake my ahead, confused and at a loss for words. "Hypothetically," I start, and have take a moment to recompose myself as Jacob looks at me like a toddler who was just told they could maybe pick out one toy at the store. "If it's the same person – which is impossible – why would they come back to a place where they were already once discovered for whatever they really are?"

Jacob shrugs his shoulders. "I'm not sure, but if it were me, I sure as hell would be defensive this time around."

* * *

 **WHEN EDWARD CALLS, I NEARLY DIE.**

Figuratively. I think.

"Hi, Bella."

"Hi."

"In case you haven't noticed, it is going to pour."

A flash of lightning streaks across the sky, shooting between clouds and the rain slams into the side of our home. Thunder claps seconds after the flash of yellow light disappears, roaring so loudly the house seems to shake. "Oh wow. I didn't even realize."

"As a friend, your lack of awareness for your surrounding concerns me."

"You aren't the first." I tell him, shrugging into my sweater. Jessica should be here any minute. "I have to go dress shopping with Jessica and Angela right now, but I can meet you somewhere after."

"How about Little Italiana?"

"Never heard of it." I taunt.

"I'll see you there, Bella."

The line goes dead just as Jessica screeches to a halt right outside my driveway. I clamber down the stairs, shouting my goodbyes over the thunder applauding me for not tripping over my feet on the way down. The walk to her car was more challenging, with rushing water seeping through the worn out material of my sneakers almost immediately. I climb into the backseat of Jessica's car, shivering and drenched.

Angela throws a smile at me over her shoulder. Jessica greets me with a hurried greeting and begins her spiel on how she just asked Mike to the dance. Apparently, Angela has already heard this riveting tale of how Jessica threw away gender norms to get what she wanted, as she adds little details to help Jessica remember certain points in her story. Mike, as told by Jessica, was totally surprised and a bit embarrassed that she had asked him. It took him a minute for him to finally nod and she was so excited that she kissed his cheek and walked into class without turning back.

"That's really awesome, Jess," I tell her.

"The crazy thing is, I just did it. I went up to him and told him I liked him and bam! The word's just wouldn't stop coming out of my mouth."

"I could never do that," I lament. "I'm too afraid of the worst-case-scenario."

Jessica drives as fast as she speaks, maybe even faster. The rain never seemed to be a deterrent for her as she sped along the highway, weaving in and out of the lanes when traffic slowed to a speed she deemed too slow. Angela crossed her ankles and seemed to tug at her seatbelt every few miles. I held on tightly to the seat and tried not to imagine the car skidding off the road and rolling over a dozen times.

As she drove, she lectured me on how I should just go for it. Life is going to pass me by if I don't stop hiding behind the worst-case-scenario's and the what-if's of a situation. "A moment of embarrassment is not worth a lifetime of regret. Someone said it, but I'm not sure who."

I contemplate what she says as she pulls into a parking space.

The brief walk to the dress shop is slightly less wet than my earlier venture to Jessica's car. The clerk at the counter eyed us up and down when we manage to pile in, shaking her head and sulking off somewhere in the back. Angela rings out her shirt on Jessica's sneakers and braces herself against me when she doubles over in laughter at Jessica's reaction.

We dry ourselves off as much as possible, with Angela commenting on the likely hood of all us of catching a cold from the sudden change in temperature. At this, Jessica's eyes widen and she presses her hand to her forehead. "How long does it take to catch a cold?"

I shrug. "I'm not sure."

Jessica chews on her lower lip as she starts to examine the dresses on the rack. Angela takes notice of her sudden change and turns to me, "Are you going to the dance, Bella?"

At this, Jessica perks up slightly. "Has anyone asked you? Have you asked anyone?"

"No," I say. "I can't dance."

We fall into a comfortable silence. I take a seat by the dressing rooms, my back to the window as Jessica and Angela call for my attention every once in a while for my opinion on dresses. I shiver, waiting for them to retreat in the back of the store. I consider the current state of my feet, and whether or not it is time to invest into a new pair of sneakers.

My phone chimes. Edward's name is listed on the screen.

See you soon.

"Edward? Edward Cullen has your phone number?" Jessica's hair brushes against my ear as she leans over my shoulder. "Are you meeting him tonight?"

If Jessica could burst, I think she could have. The excitement thrumming through her body manifests itself into visible anxiety. "You should have told me! We could have spent the evening at your house getting you ready for your date with Edward Cullen!"

Angela looks excited as well. She smiles brightly at me, pushing her hair behind her ear. "I think you look nice, Bella."

"Really, it's not a date," I add. "We're just friends."

"Just friends? Bella, it's Edward Cullen."

I laugh and put my phone back into my pocket. "We're not meeting for another twenty minutes. I want to see you in some dresses before I have to go."

Begrudgingly, Jessica allows Angela to lead her by the elbow where they begin to change.

The first dresses they come out in are reflective of the striking discrepancies between their personalities. Jessica's dress was a ruby red, floor length and glamorous. Diamonds rested on her neckline, trailing down the back in place of buttons. Angela's is a soft periwinkle, strikingly simple and also strikingly stunning. I give my opinion on both and we restart the process.

They cycle through a dozen or so dresses, give or take. Angela decides on the first dress she tried on, and Jessica holds up the third dress in a different color. "I think burgundy suits you more," I tell her.

"You don't think it makes me look washed out? Maybe I can spray tan before…"

Angela follows her line of sight to behind my head, out the window. "Oh wow."

"What?"

My phone buzzes. Edward.

Are you still dress shopping? I can come rescue you.

I stifle my laughter. Before I can start typing, he sends another text.

I'm taking your silence as a call for help.

Angela calls my name. "Edward's here."

"What?"

She gestures for me to turn around. It takes me only a few moments for me to spot Edward in the sea of people. Those around him part for him, eyeing him as he passes. It's almost as if the car's speeding down the street slow down for him to cross. "I didn't know he was picking you up!" Jess hangs the dress she was holding back down on the rack, and checks her reflection in the mirror.

"I didn't know either," I tell her. She gave no indication of hearing me.

The cold, damp air outside rushes in with the opening of the door. I can hear his footsteps walking towards the back of the store, and Angela begins saying her goodbye's. Jessica is about to lean in when he clears his throat. "Hi."

"Oh, hi…Edward right?" Jessica asks, smiling. "I'm Jessica."

Angela waves.

"I hope you don't mind, Bella and I were going to grab some food."

I watch as Jessica tries to maintain her composure as Edward speaks to her. Her lips curve into a smile, and she shakes her head. "Not at all," she says. When her eyes land on me, her smile falters just slightly. "Would you still like a ride home?"

Edward answers for me, "I don't mind taking her home. It won't be an inconvenience."

Jessica nods. "See you, Monday."

He leads me out of the store, holding the door open for me. We walk beside each other, making small talk before I lose sight of the store. "Your friends seem angry," Edward says. "Did I…"

"No. No, you're fine. I just didn't tell them about this." I wave my hand in the space between us.

His eyebrows draw together, and his lips pucker slightly. "Why?"

I shrug. "I had the whole school up my ass about that day at lunch, I'd rather not have my friends stroke the flames."

Edward takes in this information like a dying man getting a sip of water. We walk in silence while he contemplates what he should say next, and by the time we're in front of the restaurant, Edward places his hand gently on my elbow. "As a friend, may I say something?"

The hostess quickly glances up at us from her spot behind the wooden podium. "Just you two?"

I nod, and follow her to the corner of the restaurant. Edward follows by my side, his hand brushing my own as we walk. I refrain from smiling like an idiot, but I'm sure my heart is beating so loud Jess and Angela could hear it.

When we settle, Edward asks again. I nod, scanning the menu just in case I decide to be adventurous and not eat the same thing as always. "Are they really your friends if you can't tell them about eating with another friend?"

I shake my head. "That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?"

"Well," I start. "If you haven't noticed, most of the female population at our school has convinced themselves they're in love with you."

Edward laughs. "Really? I had no idea."

I smile at his laugh. It's subtle, almost as if it slipped past his lips without him thinking of it. It's a pretty laugh. "They're just curious," I tell him.

"Curious about?"

"Why someone like you would be friends with someone like me."

Edward frowns, and seems deeply offended on my behalf. "I'm friends with you because you are a nice person, Bella. You seem to have a kind soul, and I rather enjoy befriending people like you."

I blush. "Thank you, Edward."

Edward reaches across the table and rests his hand on my own. "Now, friend. What would you like to eat?"

* * *

 **AN:** Sorry for the delay. Here's a long chapter to make up for it. Reviews are always appreciated.


	7. Firsts

**6\. FIRSTS**

 **HAVING DINNER WITH EDWARD UNLEASHED A BEAST THAT NO ONE IS READY FOR.** His laughter is infectious, and I often find myself laughing at him merely seconds after he's begun to laugh. He's generous, too. Trying to pay for something on my own can lead always leads to him stepping in, ready to swipe his debit card. "You're going to run out of money one of these days and then you'll have no choice but to let me pay," I tell him, snatching the bags out of his hands playfully.

Edward smirks. "I wouldn't bet on that."

I roll my eyes. "Your turn to pick."

After dinner, Edward and I began to stroll around the shops on both sides of the street. We took turns picking the stores we went in to, and the few that we did, I ended up with something that I offhandedly mentioned I would like. Edward had scooped whatever it was into his arms and marched himself to the register.

Edward slings an arm around my shoulder and points to a bookstore on the other side of the road. "I need new ones."

"Me too," I tell him. I think I see a hint of a smile.

His arm around my shoulder let loose a flurry of butterflies in my stomach. Throughout dinner, Edward maintained some sort of physical affection. He'd hold my hand, or nudge my foot under the table. If Edward hadn't kept referring to me as his friend the entire time, I would have thought he was flirting with me.

The bookstore is desolate when we enter, a bell jingling above our heads. Edward takes my hand and leads me to the back, throwing me a sly smile over his shoulder. "This is where the best books are," he says.

And he's not wrong. Charles Dickens, Mark Twain, Shakespeare and so many more of my favorites line the old and dusty shelves. My fingers trail the spines of them lightly, scanning over the titles for something to spark my interest. "This is amazing," I breathe.

"I'm glad you think so."

We search in silence. Edward flips through several before shaking his head and putting them back on the shelves. When he catches me watching him, he ducks his head and moves to another shelf. I blush and start searching myself.

I pull out a copy of _Great Expectations_. The copy that I had was destroyed in the torrential downpour of Forks, and I haven't had the chance to replace it since. "Nice choice," Edward says, peering over my shoulder.

I jump and place a hand over my heart. "You scared me."

"Sorry."

I wave my hand. "Did you find something?"

Edward shakes his head. "Still looking."

"Go ahead. I'm going to pay for this," Edward opens his mouth to say something but I cut him off. "Please, just let me pay for this one thing."

"Fine." He relents. "Just the one."

I smile and leave him to his own devices.

An old woman stands behind the counter and she smiles when I approach her. The bell must have alerted her to our presence. She holds her hand out for the book, and when I place it in her hands she scans it quickly and efficiently. "Did you have any trouble finding anything?"

"No, my friend helped me."

Her brows furrow. "Oh? I thought he was your boyfriend."

My mouth falls agape. "No – we're just friends."

She bags the book and reads the total to me. "What a shame," she says. "You too are lovely."

I say nothing and accept my book.

I find Edward in the same place as before. "Hi," I say to him. My voice is meek, and I curse myself for being affected by the old woman's modest observation. "Did you find anything?"

Edward nods and turns around to show me the stack of books he picked out. "Wow," I tell him.

He laughs, and I pat myself on the back for not laughing along with him.

"I'll wait for you outside," I tell him. Edward nods and doesn't question it further.

The warmth of the store escapes out with me, and I relish in it for the few seconds it hovers around me before it dissipates. When it does, I'm left with my teeth chattering and my arms wrapped around myself. Without Edward to occupy my mind from the cold, it's as if I jumped head first into ice water.

Suddenly, Edward wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me in close. "C'mon," he mutters in my ear. "Act natural."

I follow his line of sight to a group of men all in their early twenties. They're drunk, and wobble and hang off each other. When they spot us, they leer at me. Edward squeezes my waist. "Laugh at something I said."

I laugh, but even to my own ears it sounds forced. Edward's grimace tells me he hears it too. "Sorry," I whisper. "This is too weird."

Edward leans down, and presses his lips to the shell of my ear. "The vile, awful things they're thinking," he pauses to suppress a shiver. "No one should be thought of in that way."

We pass them without incident. Edward held me in an ironclad grip the entire time, not allowing me to wiggle my way out of his grasp even if I wanted to. I swear when they whistled it became even tighter; I'd have to check for bruises when I get home.

His words cemented themselves in my mind. I replay them over and over, analyzing the tone for any hint of a joke but come up empty. I rationalize with myself that he's a guy and he might have an idea of exactly what they were thinking but the irrational part of my brain won't drop it.

Jacob's words tickle the back of mind. The story of Carlisle Cullen.

 _It's a story, Bella_.

Edward releases his grip once we reached his car. His shiny _Volvo_ stood out against the other cars, shinning bright even in the unflattering orange light coming off of the street lamp. He doesn't say anything, just holds the door open for me. When he gets in his side of the car, I refrain from bombarding him with questions. At least, until, we make it out of the parking lot. Then I will do it.

Sensing my unease, Edward turns on the car and shifts in his seat to face me. "I'm sorry about that."

I nod.

"Men like that –"

"You said you knew what they were thinking. How did you know what they were thinking?"

Edward chews on his lower lip. "You heard that?"

I nod once more, tapping my finger on my leg. With each second that ticks by I grow more impatient.

"I'm a vampire."

We sit in silence for a moment, Edward's eyes hard and his body stiff and unmoving. The irrational part of my brain shrieks in euphoria, and the rational part of my brain tells it to shut up. My brows furrow and my mouth falls agape, trying to find the words to tell him to not joke around with me.. At my expression, Edward doubles over in hysterics. "Kidding," he manages to get out between gasps of air. "I'm joking around."

I laugh. Relief courses through my veins and I chastise myself for that half a second where I truly considered what he had said as true. _Stop being stupid, Bella_.

When Edward gets himself under control again, he starts the car. "In all seriousness, I'm a guy. We know things about other guys."

I roll my eyes. "You sound like my Dad."

We spend the ride home like that. Joking and teasing each other. It's easy to be myself around Edward. Talking to him is as easy as breathing, and when there's a lull in the conversation, I'm not stumbling over my words to fill it. Sitting in silence is as comfortable as being alone, only, I'm not alone and Edward's presence is more than enough to make me feel content and safe.

Once we're get off the exit, I let him drive us into town. After we pass the school, I navigate him to my house. When we pull into my driveway, Edward comes to a subtle stop. He's out of the car before I can blink, opening my door for me. "That was fast," I tell him. "Part of your vampiric abilities?"

Edward nods. "You're a fast learner."

He walks me to the door. I can see the kitchen light on, and the flicker of movement coming from the bay window at the table. While I haven't told Dad the exact details of my outing, I knew the second he saw an unfamiliar car in the driveway that he'd be peaking his head out to see who it is. "Thanks for tonight," I say to Edward, holding up the bags in the space between us. "I had a lot of fun."

Edward smiles. "Me too, Bella."

We stand in silence. Edward shifts his weight, chewing on his lower lip as if he's hashing out an eternal debate with himself on his next move. He leans in, ducking his head just slightly. The cold of his lips brush against my own. It's soft and gentle. His lips are chapped and somewhat dry, similar to my own. "Goodnight, Bella."

Edward leaves, taking my ability to speak with him.

* * *

 **AN: To the guest that left such wonderful reviews, thank you. It motivated me to finish this chapter.**


	8. Invasion of Privacy

**7\. INVASION OF PRIVACY**

 **NEWS OF MY DINNER WITH EDWARD SPREAD LIKE WILDFIRE.** The story caught onto what had yet to be touch by the morning shower, jumping from tree to tree; engulfing anything in its path to fuel its intensity. It was voracious and unable to be contained; some of the tales being recited back to me were so far removed from reality, I wondered what inclined someone to take it as truth.

The list of people that could have poured the gasoline and lit the match is short. There is only two people who knew about the dinner I had arranged with Edward - three if I'm being pessimistic and taking notes from poorly-rated romance novels geared towards my age group. Edward never gave off any indication for some sinister motives during our time together and Angela is the only one I would bet my life on to not do something like that.

My suspicions are confirmed when Angela calls me, frantic and hardly able to speak properly.

I peak my head into the living room. My parents sit on the couch, curled up into each other with a soft tenderness that matches that of Edward's hand when he touches me. "Mom?" My voice sounds harsh and too loud for the mood that they have set, and I wince when I watch them jump. I can feel my face flush when Mom turns to acknowledge me. "Can I go to Jessica's?"

She nods and curls back up into Dad.

* * *

 **I SPEND TWENTY MINUTES DEBATING ON HOW I WILL APPROACH JESSICA WITH MY ACCUSATIONS.**

I decide on flat out asking her, hoping for the truth and the least amount of fallout possible.

We sit at her kitchen table, sipping on lukewarm tea. Jessica asks about my dinner with Edward, and I reply with short, concise answers. She attempts to get more information out of me, teasing me with small jabs about my lack of relationship experience. When it fails, we sit in an uncomfortable silence. I speak first.

"Did you tell anyone about me going to dinner with Edward?"

Jessica sits a little bit straighter. Her face hardens and she folds her arms across her body. "Was I not suppose to?"

"I - uh, yes."

Jessica furrows her brows and leans back into her chair. She uncrosses her arms, too. Any trepidation she felt when I stepped foot into her home is forgotten in favor of the relaxed position she takes now. "I'm sorry," she says, and shrugs her shoulders. "I didn't know that was something you had wanted."

In that moment, it dawns on me where the true fault lies.

The moment that I found out about my personal life being shared as if it was a piece of chocolate filled me with a rage that I struggled to control. In my haste to determine how word got out, it never occured to me that I never asked anyone to keep this to themselves. As simple as it is, I would have never came to the realization on my own.

There's a small voice in the back of my head that whispers, tickling at the back of my brain. It infiltrates my breakthrough with as much care as a toddler has when dealing with glass. _You shouldn't need to, Bella._

I ignore it.

"You're right." My shoulders slump forward as my body sags with the weight of my guilt.

Jessica leans forward and twirls her hair around her finger. "I am sorry it bothered you," she says with a low voice, not meeting my eyes. "I should have asked."

I nod. "Thank you for being understanding."

Jessica presses her hand to her eyes. Her face contorts, her eyebrows drawing in close and her nose wrinkling. "Thank you," she chokes out, and it's then that I realize she is on the verge of tears. "Everyone makes me out to be this horrible person and…" She trails off in a puddle of tears and a symphony of hiccups. "It's just nice to be treated with compassion."

I stand up from my chair and wrap her in a hug. She leans into me, resting her head on my shoulder as she tries to get herself under control. Memories of the ways I treated her throughout the nearly two decades of friendship flashes in my mind. I wince internally at my dismissive nature, at all of the times I dismissed her problems as vapid and immature. "I'm so sorry," I whisper in her ear, rubbing circles on her back. "I've been a bad friend."

Jessica says nothing. She relaxes into my grip and no longer attempts to stifle her sobs. We stay like this for a while, and when Jessica is no longer crying, she stays in my arms. Her breathing slowly evens out, and she is no longer hiccuping with each breath she takes. When she pulls away, she thanks me for everything.  
We sit together the rest of the day, talking about anything and everything.

She's more open with me. I learn that she's more than a vain, boy obsessed teenager; the problems that plagued her life stem from the same insecurities that torment me. We've been friends for all our lives, and yet, we knew nothing about each other.

That morning, I learned that not all invasions of privacy is a bad thing.

* * *

 **EDWARD CALLS ME AFTER DINNER.** It's eerie that he always seems to know when it's the perfect time to call. When I mention it to him jokingly, Edward responds with a _tsk_. I envision him shaking his head as he responds, "It's part of my vampiric abilities."

"Forgive me," I tease. It doesn't escape me how light and airy my voice sounds, a stark contrast to how it normally sounds. "I'm not used to talking to vampires."

Edward laughs. It didn't seem particularly funny, yet, I pride myself in being able to make Edward laugh as often as I can. When his laughter dies off, we sit in silence for a few moments. I take the opportunity to put him on speaker and to start up my laptop. After a few seconds of my fingers clashing against the rubber of the keyboard, Edward clears his throat. "It seems that everyone found out about our dinner," his voice trembles as he adds, "I'm sorry that people invaded your privacy."

I shrug my shoulders. After a few moments, I realize that he can't see me. Quickly, I rush out, "It's not just my privacy, it's yours too. Besides, I never asked anyone to keep it to themselves."

"That's a really nice way of looking at it."

"I guess."

"I'm also sorry for kissing you," he tells me. My heart sinks, and my stomach suddenly rolls and I can feel the bile start to creep up my throat. "I should have asked you first."  
The pressure on my heart that I hadn't realized was there lifts and I can breathe properly now. My stomach soothes itself, and the bile crawling up my throat retreats back into its hole, disappointed. "I appreciate it," I respond. My voice is hoarse, and I clear my throat. "But, I didn't mind."

Edward breathes a sigh of relief. "I wish it was longer."

My breath catches in my throat. "Really?"

"You are stunningly beautiful, Bella."

"Thank you, Edward." My face flushes at the compliment; I've only heard the sentiment from my parents, and that's something they are biased too. "I was thinking that maybe I can pick you up on Monday. Is that something you would want to do?"

My heart races and excitement bubbles from somewhere deep inside of me. I scream internally, excited at the prospect of spending even more time with Edward. "I would like that," I respond, desperately trying to keep the excitement out of my voice. I fail miserably.

"See you then, Bella."

There's a smile on my face for the rest of the evening.

* * *

 **AN: Happy Holiday's everyone! Reviews are very much appreciated.**


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